


With Love, Your Victim

by CaptainTsukiko



Series: Crushed Pages Of A Love Letter [1]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Underage - Freeform, highschool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:20:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5940187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTsukiko/pseuds/CaptainTsukiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is his own expectation that he's supposed to be happy that makes him miserable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Love, Your Victim

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grinner_H](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grinner_H/gifts).



**Word Count** : about a thousand.  
**Rating** : I'm keeping it to a T.  
**Special Acknowledgements** : This is a certain love letter to someone I've never talked to. I'm extremely embarrassed and I hope they like it...

.

 

_Dear my Doom,_

_This is your victim. Please hear me one last time._

_I know you know the rage and jealousy I felt towards you underneath all the love I gave to you. And you know I knew that when you asked me in the middle of the night if I hated you. I'm sorry for spluttering and saying how blasphemous that idea was, trying to distract you with emojis and nonsensical jokes._

_I cried for an eternity afterward._

_I'm sorry._  
I'm jealous. I love you.  
I'm human.

(The word is went over with force and ink, and it stains the next page.)

_They might sound contradictory. And reality is unrealistic. Even Now, I can't write down I what I want to say to you honestly. Emotions overwhelm the mind and the words I prepared change colours._

_Sorry. I was too distraught, jealous that someone could do what I could better than me. I can't do anything else, even now._

_I loved you like God almighty. I want you to acknowledge that. Even if that love is corrupted to the point of no return._

_I know you won't believe me. Neither will the ghosts around you. And I know it won't change anything between us even if you decided to believe me. I'd be envious once again, and I'll love you and hurt you all over again. But you're convinced that I love you, yes? You're so untrusting. Even more so, now. I saw how you acted with your admirers._

_But if my lifeless body will convince you... Even a tad (there's a soft blotch of ink splayed like hell's flowers, obscuring what he wanted to say.)_

_I'm willing to give you a throne._

_Throne of my rotting flesh and bones._

.  
.  
.

There's a nice little cherry tree across the field. Takaba can see the faintest outline of the fresh little buds from the teacher's office.

"Takaba--? Earth to Takaba?! What're you, _deaf?_ "

He wonders if he can shoot this little bitch up and be done with it. But he's a little too attached to his freedom, so that's out of the question. His new teacher - what was his name again, Horimon Juuro, Hori Monjuuro or some mumbo jumbo like that - shoots a shark like glare.

"Yeah, sorry." A charming smile can make one forget, so he uses that. "I don't wanna listen, so. Please lecture me sometime else?" The ogre's face is still, perhaps with anger and shock. It's like crack to him.

And skips away in time, and a second later comes the booming sound of a frustrated scream.

Takaba Akihito likes that a lot more than neccesary.

.

"Class-- meet a new friend of yours." Oga Aiko is a passive woman. The type to be scared easily. A doormat. Takaba wonders with a languid had on his chin if he should cut up some stuff in her bag or something along...

"Hello." It makes him look up. Smooth, velvet voice of an adult. _This guy isn't supposed to be here, is he?_ "Please take care of me." A bow with practised grace. As if his life was dedicated to learning the simple art.

Takaba would ask himself later why those gold eyes made him feel so at home.

.

"So you're Chinese?" There's a beer in his hand that he shouldn't have, for a teenager as him.

"Yes."

I guess he's not the type to talk much, eh? Takaba gives a cold eyed smile he hopes came out nonchalant and utterly, completely cool.

"Cool."

And he throws an arm around Feilong. Not caring for the startled gasp that filtered through delicate lips.

"You wanna skip homeroom?"

As he talks he toys with his earlobe with a finger and runs them through long hair. He teases, kids and flirts, and the oven remains almost ignorant with a rigid back.

(Is it shyness or discomfort?)

And at some point during this process, Takaba falls for him.

.

Perhaps now that he thinks about it, Takaba should've been careful. Careful and cautious as to not mix with different blood and foreign body. But he still knows that the past him wouldn't have listened. The more dangerous, the better.

(And like all young men and kings who are truly and badly in love, his consciousness is focused on one thing: the void in his heart that only the special can fill.)

Adrenaline Junkie, much?

As soon as Feilong had settled in their school, word spread around faster than rumours. And they... Spend most of their time hiding away from it.

To say the least, yes.

"You know, some people say you used to be a FBI agent?" Takaba slides a low finger down Feilong's gorgeous-gorgeous hair. "Wouldn't be too impossible, I'd say. You _did_ skip a lot of years." If Feilong was uncomfortable from that, Takaba didn't notice.

They are here - alone, thrilled and excited - in his bedroom. Mom can come home suddenly, she has a key. Takato can come to check.

—Takaba doesn't think he cares.

And so doesn't Fei.

"Since when did you listen to rumours?"

There's a mocking slither on Fei's lips. And Takaba smirks.

"Only if it's about you."

No one noticed the warmth of their fingers, laced together like soft wool.

.

Fei is...

Fei is fey.

And even if Takaba couldn't scoop him out in a sight like thousands of others--

He thinks he's fine as long it's just them.

Alone.

Together.

Most of all:

For eachother.

.

He can live with surrendering himself by looking into metallic eyes and dragging dos Fei's top lip with a smooth nail.

He can live with that.

.

The shadows from Feilong's hair fall on Takaba's chest. A strange stickiness pinned the valley of his legs, and he imagines that someone is recording them from a safe distance - so they can revisit this memory over and over.

Takaba notices something.

There's a bunch of red marks on Fei's bare back. So few that Takaba could count them by hand. Mosquito bites? Probably. They spawn like bunnies.

A corner of his lover's mouth turns down into a sordid line, like someone has hooked it down.

And Takaba feels dread at the next words.

"--The principal."

.

Only at night, Feilong goes to bath. The water is cold, biting. And even though his stay at Takaba's home is no less than hospitable - he can't exactly say "hey, I need to cover up the fact that my bro molested me. So please turn on the motors?"

...What a miserable idiot.

There's a thick river of blood sliding down his thighs. It looks fascinating, so he stares at it like its the most amazing thing ever.

It's a slick feeling. Sick; deranged; despicable.

He can actually hear voices remarking how shameful it is.

And it makes him fee like a whore.

.

"This is not... required of you."

"What--? Burning up the principal and his building to punish him for crimes?"

Takaba's eyes are so trusting.

And warm. And inviting. And homey.

Feilong's doesn't know what the pang in his stomach is for.

"No. That's not it..."

He feels a loving pat on his back.

"I'd do it for you; don't be afraid."

What is this--

Tears?

(How many have told him that. _Don't be afraid._ How nice would it be have this moment captured forever.)

.

There's a furious burn on Feilong's cheeks. And he doesn't look up in case Takaba shoots another punch.

"Going to your Mafia friends, you mean." Venomous stares he is used to. But not a lover's cries. "Little pussy."

That was the moment he noticed--blue eyes, silent cries, black lies--Takaba is...

A Fey.

.

Cold voices, hard stares and red carpets. This is what Yan'Tzui's office is.

"Inoue is dead."

"Yes." That means mission complete.

"And you're leaving."

"Yes."

Excitements, warmth, and a life to forward to... Taka--

Feilong can hear the small rumble of anger in Yan'Tzui's veins. It makes him smile. One for one.

"Father knows."

.

Takaba knows that there is a certain need to know oneself before loving someone else.

He didn't note that the more he knew himself...  
the less he'd want to love.

By his hand lays a cup of possibility - a shiny, black gun. On his breast lay a smooth hand of the devil. And he's the rosy cheeked Eve, poisoned empty whispers and fragrant vows.

 _(Even if this moment passes away, even if you look at someone else--)_  
  
"I want to kiss you."

What a salacious whisper:

it sends shivers up his arms.

 _(I'll only look at your figure, shining like a pearl in that bright, summer sky.)_  
  
"...Do it."

The lame music continues to throb.

.  
.  
.

"Woah--" Takaba shoots a wide eyed to look at the collection of photographs. "They're so nice to look at, vibrant too. Ne~ What's your secret?" It sounds more like a joke than an actual question. And that exactly what he wants.

"Nothing much. I just get into character."

Takaba hums and pretends that Feilong's hair is not grazing his back as the students look at all of each competitors photos. Going wide eyed mostly at Feilong's though.

No, he whispers into void, I'm not feeling this.

"Ahh-- Fei's photo's are so great! I lost my words!" "Heh. He did it again, yeah? I lost all my words."

This disgusting dread of green.

_I'm not feeling it._

No.

No.

No--

.  
.  
.

That night, he can the emotional sobs of his mother and the low growls of his father. Downstairs, something breaks and renewed end sobs and screams make his head spin. Fei can't hear. He's asleep with a hand around Takaba's waist.

_Oh-- someone just shoved Dad. No... It's grandma._

The angry shouts followed by a thick desperate cry of his grandma.

Takaba just closes his eyes and anticipates when one of them will come to burn off frustration on him. There's a haunting chill in the back of his neck.

He ignores it and thinks how good it feels to wind his ankles around Fei's hips.

.

These days, he always cries in the twilight hours, when it's like a city of death. So no one can see his shameful, shameful tears. And what are tears except rivers of emotion? They can't be hidden. So he skips school. One day--two days--a week.

Interactions with everyone become dim as a firefly.

And that's when he hears that his position by Fei's side has been taken.

.  
.  
.

Takaba glances at the crowd in front of the notice board.

What's happening?

He sashays to the front. Looking at the white crisp paper that the students are looking at. And there's just silence around him.

It's a hate mail. Full of lies and deceit and the scent of anger.

To Fei.

Gorgeous, glorious, and strange Fei.

He looks back and out. There's uncomfortable stares everywhere.

They think I did it--

Didn't they?

Feilong was there too.

Only he wasn't looking at him.  
He was looking at happiness. Sunlight; sun sparks and bright futures.  
And not a little shadow like him.

...He really hates Monday's.

So he rips the paper and goes back home

.  
.  
.

_Dear my doom,_

_I was jealous._

_I was in love._

_But I can't live like this. Looking at your retreating back. Waiting that someday that you might want to see me again, talk to me again. Love me again._

_I'm addicted to this pain you gave to me._

_So I'll give a throne made out of my mere tears and blood._

_If that might satisfy you._

_With love,_  
Your victim.  
  
(A dark red blotch stains the paper. A last signature of its owner.)

**Author's Note:**

> [Please imagine that I'm prostrating as I write this.]
> 
> I think it matters that you like the author when you read their works. I also know it isn't very logical, but, it's kind of like "I'm wary of your character, so I'm worried about the things you're associated with." I've always seen this scenario happen with the people around me, and so I've come to theorise that it must be an unconscious decision. So I'll be very, very embarrassed if I come out weird. Even though it's weird enough already that I'm giving gifts to people I've never talked to... XD But yeah, I really like your works. And since I'm so awkward; I thought of conveying my appreciation through a story of bitterness. 
> 
> Even though I hope earnestly that you like it and also tried very hard to make it as perfect as yours; please think of it as a crazy fangirl's rant and ignore if it doesn't meet your standards.
> 
> And for making me feel like a high school girl asking her senior to a date, thanks.


End file.
